First Guilt

My 4-year-old thing was boards
Scrapped from anywhere
(Those palings by the road
Not all of them rot)
And so I’d sort
And sort enough to build
Up and up and up
With rusty, salvaged nails
(As well)
A tree scraper—to my
Height of pride!
Until one day a girl
I’d played “Doctor” with,
Collapsed it, in my absence,
And blamed me for her fall.
The good news:
She later became a trial lawyer
Whose husband, at her suggestion
Offered me $20,000
To build a boardwalk
Up a dune
……………….To their mansion
The labor for which
(I told him)
I’d be donating
In her memory.

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